


Under the Circumstances

by HematiteBadger



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bad Ideas, Comfort Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season 3, set between Pan-Pan and Securite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HematiteBadger/pseuds/HematiteBadger
Summary: When everything is falling apart, there's no shame in taking comfort wherever you can find it.
 It's not an actual Pryce and Carter tip, but maybe it should be.





	

“It’s just a minor burn,” Renee said once again, as if by repeating it she could make it truer. Like if she just argued enough it would erase that moment when her vision went white with a pain too sudden and shocking to scream over. Like it would stop her upper arm from being a red, blistered mess that she was afraid to move. Like it would get Hilbert off her back so she could get back to work.

Hilbert didn’t even bother responding as he steered her into the lab, inexorable as the tide, and she followed with no real attempt to resist. He’d already proven himself capable of out-stubborning even her on medical matters, as if all the relentlessness he’d poured into his research was now finding its outlet in actually being the station’s doctor. It was easiest to just go along with him, grumbling all the way, and then ignore his admonitions to take it easy for a while. He knew better than to think that any of them could afford to follow that particular order lately.

Renee looped her uninjured arm through one of the handholds near the largest supply cabinet, the one that she knew from experience contained all the basic first-aid equipment. Hilbert was already collecting what he needed, muttering to himself as he did so and occasionally making an annoyed sound as he came across an empty package. They were running out of more supplies every day, and the reminder caused Renee far more pain than the burn. She swore quietly, and Hilbert made an absentminded noise that might have been meant as comfort.

Apparently satisfied with what he’d managed to gather, Hilbert turned his full attention back to Renee and slipped one gloved hand under her arm, holding it steady. “Hold still,” he told her, the first actual words he’d spoken since he’d first looked at the wound and started herding her down the hall. “This will sting.”

He wasn’t kidding. Renee swore again as he started cleaning the burned area, setting her nerves ablaze again even though she could tell he was trying to be gentle. “It’s okay,” she half-whispered, mostly to herself. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

There was a pause in the careful motions, and the hand gripping her arm tensed for a moment. “You are not _fine_ ,” Hilbert corrected in a low voice, giving the last word a hard, sarcastic edge as he regained his rhythm. “None of us is _fine_.” He was vehement despite his soft tone, and he was focused so intently on her arm that it was clear he was avoiding looking her in the face.

Now it was Renee’s turn to tense up. She’d always hated his propensity for saying what she wasn’t allowing herself to think. “Under the circumstances—”

“ _Under the circumstances_ ,” he cut her off, still in that low, unstoppable voice, “we are _justified_ in not being fine.” He kept his head down still, and it hit Renee that maybe he wasn’t so much trying to avoid her eyes as he was trying to keep himself in check. “You are the only one who is trying to pretend otherwise.”

 _Pretending badly_ , Renee corrected him in her mind, half surprised he hadn’t said it himself. He’d seen her break now, collapsing in on herself as they all shivered on the bridge, the weight of her own despair and helplessness finally forcing out the tears she’d (mostly) held back for months. It had been days before she could look any of them in the face, too sure she would see her own disdain reflected back. So this was when the recrimination would finally come, someone finally taking her up on her offer to bear the brunt of the blame. Ironic that it was Hilbert, who'd been the first to try and absolve her. Or possibly appropriate, given how harshly she’d shut him down. “Just say whatever you’re going to and get it over with,” she snapped, already tired of his quiet disapproval. It wasn’t like anything he could say to her could possibly be any worse than what she wanted to say to herself.

There was no immediate answer. Hilbert manipulated her arm a little, taking in the full scope of the burn. “How is the cut on your leg healing?” he asked, almost casually.

It took Renee a moment to understand the question, to remember the accident from a week or so ago that had almost required stitches. “Fine?” she hazarded, not sure where he was going with this. “No new pain, no signs of infection.”

A short grunt of affirmation. “And the smoke inhalation?”

Another barely-remembered accident. “I coughed for two days and then got over it. What are y—”

“And the bruised ribs? The dislocated shoulder? The countless other little wounds you have not bothered to tell me about?” He looked up at her now and his face was impatient, frustrated. “You are running yourself ragged, Commander. How long do you intend to go on like this?”

“As long as it takes.” It came out of her in a grim little snarl, somewhere between defensive and defiant. She was doing all that was necessary to keep them all afloat, tearing herself apart today for the sake of seeing tomorrow.

“And how do you expect to _last_ ‘as long as it takes’ if you continue ignoring your own needs?” Hilbert countered, tugging on her arm for emphasis. He smeared a pale green paste over the burn, some home-brewed antibacterial concoction that also took away most of the pain, and Renee let out a tiny sigh of relief. “You must know the situation is untenable,” he added, more quietly this time.

Of _course_ she did. He was absolutely right that she was pushing herself well beyond reasonable limits, but what choice did she have? She couldn't exactly pace herself when none of them knew how fast the death they were outrunning was gaining on them. She was trying to put as much distance between it and her crew as she could, to give them a fighting chance of lasting until someone came for them. “Do you have a better plan?” she asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Yes.” He let out a huff of air. “We continue to send out distress call. We continue to make basic repairs as necessary to keep the station functional And you do not kill yourself in the process.” He squeezed her arm again, probably a little harder than necessary, and fixed her with a sharp look. “Does this sound reasonable?”

His own sarcasm was comforting in its familiarity, as was the anger it inspired. Renee rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend you actually care what happens to anyone other than yourself,” she growled. “You’ve made that clear enough.”

A small, wry chuckle as he began bandaging her arm. “Yes, I am selfish,” he agreed. “I wish to survive. And I am aware that you are my best chance for that.” Renee gave him a wary look, and he continued. “Station is falling apart; crew is only thing holding it together. Crew is falling apart; _you_ are only thing holding it together.” A cool, serious look. “I have a vested interest in holding you together, Commander.”

Renee forced herself to breathe around the knot in her stomach, around the weight of the entire station pressing down on her chest. All of these people were relying on her to keep them safe and alive, and she’d already failed once. There wasn’t a single second of her life when she wasn’t acutely aware of this; she didn’t need the external reminder as well. She resisted the urge to pull away from Hilbert. “Well, you seem to have the situation well enough in hand,” she said archly, the pun unintentional.

“Should not _have_ to,” Hilbert said, quiet and intense. “Not to this extent.” The bandage was secured, but he didn’t release her arm. “This should not have happened,” he said, touching the edge of the burn. “You have grown… incautious. Too willing to take personal risks.” Renee could tell he was choosing his words carefully, trying not to say anything that would make her shut him out entirely. “Stress and lack of sleep are beginning to impede your judgment.” 

The worst part was that she couldn’t even argue with him. This pain was entirely due to her own mistake, and if anyone else had slipped up the way she did today she’d have taken them off duty until they had time to rest and sharpen up. She was so tired, God, she was just _so tired all the time_ , and everything ached, but she was in charge. She didn’t have the luxury of taking time out. “We’re all running on fumes,” she sighed. “But we’re all _coping_. I’m not a case that needs special attention.”

A faint, wry smile. “Yes, _we_ are coping. Because we have Renee Minkowski to make certain that we will be all right. But she is not allowing anyone to take care of _her_.” 

Not a shred of irony in his voice, but Renee was happy to provide her own. “That’s a lot of trust to put in a _waste_ ,” she said, pulling away from his grip. She’d allowed herself to forget so many of the little things he’d said for the sake of working peaceably with him, but that one stuck with her. As it was clearly meant to.

There was a flicker in his face, some kind of surprise, as if she’d brought up something irrelevant. He shrugged dismissively. “Circumstances change. Opinions change. What needs to be said at the moment changes. Assessment may have been accurate at the time, but was mostly chosen because I knew it would make you angry enough to leave me alone. But now…” Another shrug. “You have more than proven yourself. And I do not seek to be left alone.”

There was a subtle harmonic in that last sentence that caught Renee off-guard, something low and almost wounded that slipped out of her grasp as she tried to examine it more closely. One more thing she would never understand about this man. “‘Proven myself,’” she echoed dazedly. “God, that’s all I wanted, isn’t it?” The irony of hearing that _now_ , under these conditions, from this man, hit her in full force. Her hands rose to cover her face without her willing it, her shoulders curling in as she drew further back from Hilbert.

“We should all fear getting what we wish for.” Hilbert’s voice was mild, and it softened even further as he took hold of her wrists, lowering her hands and forcing her to look at him. “Commander. You are brave. You are strong. You are clever. You have done all that could ever be asked of anyone in your position and more. _And you are not responsible for Officer Eiffel’s death_.”

Amid all the other concerns and reassurances, that one knocked the breath out of her. She tried to inhale and choked on something like a sob, half pain and half anger. She tried to pull away again but he held firm, putting just enough pressure on her wrists to resist her initial tug, and she was already fighting so many battles that she didn’t have it in her to escalate this one.

“I know you do not want to hear this from me,” he continued, recognizing the weaker echoes of the fury she’d turned on him the last time he’d tried to say that. “But you must allow yourself to hear it from _someone_ before you self-destruct. You are tearing yourself apart trying to atone for a sin you did not commit and regain a level of control you never had. If you continue like this you _will_ kill yourself. I have seen it happen before. Do not wish to see it again.”

Renee took in a breath that only shuddered a little. All she wanted was to let herself believe him, to be absolved and approved of and _worthy_ , but she couldn’t. There were too many years of being almost good enough behind her. She’d spent far too long doing her best and knowing that it could and should be better. “Because if I go, I’m taking you all with me,” she said, her scorn sounding weak and hollow to her own ears.

There was no humor in his little chuckle. “Yes. That is reason.” He continued to watch her, eyes serious. “I will not insult your intelligence by suggesting that I would not lie to you. But I am not lying now.”

He wasn’t lying. Under this unusual compassion Renee could still sense a familiar current of impatience running through him, the one he was usually so quick to display when he was explaining something he thought should have been obvious to everyone. But there was still a gap she couldn’t bridge between knowing that he was being honest with her and believing that what he was saying was true. She stopped trying to believe it, at least for the moment, and just breathed. There was someone holding her hands and looking at her with sincere concern, wanting to make sure she was all right, and even if his motives were questionable it was more comfort than she’d grown to expect. It was also the most physical contact she’d had with another person in months, not counting all the time Hilbert had spent putting her back together. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let go of that just yet.

She was silent for a long while, feeling her pain and fear and rage retreat back to their cages after having left their marks so thoroughly, and this time when she pulled away Hilbert let her go. She turned herself so she was no longer fully facing him and dragged her hands down her face again, leaving them over her mouth for an extra second or two until she was entirely certain she wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of him, not again. “I still see him,” she said softly. “I close my eyes and there he is. I wake up in the middle of the night because I think I heard his voice. And every time… I have to remember all over again.” It was like she was remembering all over again right now, wrapping her arms around the now-familiar ache in her chest.

Hilbert made an affirmative but noncommittal sound that could mean anything from _yes, that is a normal part of the grieving process_ to _me too_. However it was meant, it was reassuring, a reminder that losing her mind like this was at least not some unique failing of hers. “Loss is… difficult to process, even under ideal circumstances.”

There was petty pedantry on Renee’s lips, wanting to point out that no circumstance that involves losing someone can really be considered ‘ideal.’ She wondered if he would argue. He probably would, given his apparent general position on the value of an individual human life. She was tempted to say something, because a completely pointless hypothetical argument that didn’t involve their current and very real life-or-death situation might be a nice change of pace, but she didn’t want to break this wary peace. The comfort he’d tried to offer her on the bridge, so infuriating at the time, seemed to actually be doing her some good now that she was breaking down in private instead of on display, and now that it was just her crumbling instead of their entire tentative social order. “I’m so…” _Tired. Afraid. Aching. Helpless_. She didn’t say any of it, though she knew it was all written in every line of her body. “It never stops,” she eventually said. “Everything’s falling apart.” A weary, hopeless look at him as she finally said what she’d been ignoring for so long. “And so am I.”

Hilbert sighed gently, moving closer to her again. “I am not a psychiatrist. Cannot provide… grief counseling.” He said it with just enough disdain and discomfort to remind her of who she was talking to. “But I can perhaps help manage the symptoms.”

Renee felt her lip twist in an ironic smile. “Patch over the cracks until a better solution comes along?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She held his glance for a moment before dipping her head in a brief nod. “Yeah,” she breathed. “God knows I need it.”

Hilbert looked relieved that she was finally listening to reason. “I am here to help,” he said quietly. “Tell me what you need.”

It was such a big question that Renee was silent for a long moment, unable to formulate an answer. And then she was silent for another long moment, shaking her head, because she did have an answer. It was the worst answer possible, the worst choice she could make in a long history of terrible choices, but she also knew it was the only one she could make right now. Keeping one arm folded defensively across her chest, she raised the other hand to cover her face again, squeezing her temples. Not her earlier gesture of helpless despair, but a much more familiar one, the silent cry of _how is this my life_. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, her own complete disbelief making her voice clearer. A deep breath. “I haven’t had sex in over two years.”

Hilbert’s brow furrowed. “I fail to see how this is relevant to matter at hand.”

 _Of course you do_. “It’s not,” she agreed, wrapping one hand around his arm. “Not directly. But it could be.” She kissed him, quick and clumsy and borne up by the confidence that came from the certainty that she’d lost her mind entirely.  


As her meaning dawned it was his turn to pull away, though not as swiftly or as sharply as she might have expected. He was surprised, certainly, but not apparently shocked. He looked confused, concerned, thoughtful… and just a little bit curious. One eyebrow arched up slowly. “Intent of offer was more… pharmaceutical in nature,” he said carefully.

“Yes, and my memories of the last time you drugged me are hazy and tinted with cannon fire.” Renee returned, tipping dangerously close to hysterical laughter.

To her surprise he actually winced and gave her an apologetic look. “That was unforeseen error in calculation. I would not allow it to happen twice.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to test that.” Renee let out a harsh breath. “I know how crazy I sound,” she continued quietly, head down. This was an idea so insane that Eiffel would be proud of her, and maybe that was part of the appeal. One of the things he’d taught her without ever meaning to was that sometimes, when the entire world has gone completely insane, the only way to cope is to go crazy on your own terms. “But I need something that will make everything else _stop_ for a while. I need to block out the constant string of emergencies and make all the little voices in my head just _shut up_ long enough for me to rebuild some of my defenses.” Some of those little voices were screaming at her now, telling her exactly what they thought of this plan, but for once the desperation and the prospect of having found a potential temporary fix were drowning them out. She looked up at him again, trying not to plead. “I think we ran out of good options for healthy coping mechanisms about eight light years ago. Believe me, I know this isn’t a good solution. But it’s the least-terrible bad solution I can think of right now. I don’t suggest it lightly.”

Hilbert continued to study her, still looking thoughtful, and when she said that last he closed his eyes briefly. “I am not certain I agree with you, Commander.”

That was enough to make her flinch. “This isn’t your commander asking you this, Hilbert,” she said quickly, earnestly. God, even with all the infractions she’d already committed on this mission she’d never expected to add ‘soliciting sexual favors from a subordinate’ to the list. “I’m not going to pull rank, or threaten you, or anything else you might be concerned about.”

Hilbert made a gently ironic sound. “Trust me, Minkowski, your rank has never been a concern of mine. And it is not now.” He leaned in towards her, and it struck Renee that this might not have been the first time he’d considered her in this context. That thought was more of a shock than it probably should have been. He lowered his voice. “I am more than willing,” he said, practically a growl, and Renee’s heart sped up just a little. “I need no convincing or coercion. But this does not mean I believe it would be effective solution to your problem. You have far more risk of regret than I do.”

Renee knew that all too well. She had her responsibilities, she had her standards, she had her _husband_ to think about. Not that she’d had much time to think about him lately. The familiar stab of heartache still came every time she did, but it was growing as distant as he was, too far away for any metaphor to bridge the expanse between them. She couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty for doing whatever she had to in order to keep herself alive long enough to see him again. She spread her hands and gave Hilbert a weak half-smile. “What’s one more regret added to the pile? I can live with a little guilt tomorrow if it means actually _making_ it to tomorrow.”

He tilted his head, slow and wary. “And when you have to live and work with your regret day after day? To be reminded that you have not only compromised yourself, but that you have done so with someone you do not desire, do not even _trust_? When tomorrow comes, and the guilt with it, I know where the blame will fall.”

Renee drew herself up in surprise. Of all the reasons she’d thought he might refuse – which, admittedly, wasn’t many; she didn’t actually allow herself to think _at all_ in between having the idea to proposition him and actually doing it – she hadn’t thought he’d say something that… emotional. It was still calculated, of course, and based entirely on his own self-interest, but it sounded almost like he was trying to protect them both from getting hurt. It was also completely absurd. “Whatever the fallout from this is, it’s all on me,” she said. “You have my word.” A slight quirk to her eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you should be assuming, anyway, considering that you keep accusing me of trying to take the blame for everything that goes wrong anyway?”

He matched her expression, though he looked to be more amused by the turn the conversation has taken than she was. “This is true,” he conceded.

“And you’re only half right,” Renee added. “I don’t… whatever attraction I have to you is based entirely on convenience.” God, everything else she’d already said and _that’s_ what made her blush, the confession that all she was looking for was a warm body? She almost stopped talking, even though the next part was the important bit. “But I do trust you. In this instance, anyway.” It had been a long time since she’d seen him quite so surprised. “Whatever your endgame is, you’re not going to do anything to compromise your own survival, and as long as that means it’s in your best interest to keep the rest of us safe… I trust you.”

Hilbert huffed out the bare hint of a dry laugh. “This is a strange sort of trust.”

She almost laughed. “It’s a strange sort of situation.” A solemn, gentle shake of her head. “You’re a member of my crew,” she said simply, the words she couldn’t bring herself to say when he’d asked so many months ago.

Hilbert leaned back from her slightly, clearly recognizing the weight of the words. Thoughts raced across his face, but as usual Renee couldn’t tell what they might be. “You do have a talent for arguing,” he finally told her quietly. He did a half twist in the air, aligning his body with hers as if they were standing face to face on solid ground, and fixed her with a firm look. “You are committed to this course of action?”

“Only if you are.”

A solemn and serious nod. Hilbert rested a hand on her hip, drawing her close, and curled the other around her neck and jaw. “Then I will not attempt further to dissuade you.”

He kissed her deliberately and methodically, his usual cool demeanor unable to hide a faint glimmer of recklessness that echoed her own. Renee closed her eyes and let herself go.

 

*

_He tangles his fingers in her hair and murmurs reassurances in Russian. She buries her face in his neck and whispers someone else’s name._

*

Hilbert held her afterwards, slipping his hands behind her back and pausing for only a brief moment, apparently contemplating whether or not he should, before pulling her in against his chest. It was an intimacy Renee didn’t expect and wouldn’t have asked for, and even as she sank into the embrace and let her head rest against his shoulder she suspected it wasn’t entirely for her benefit. She draped her injured arm loosely around his neck and for a long while they simply drifted together in peaceable exhaustion.

It was _quiet_. No alarms, nothing creaking and rattling and demanding her immediate attention, no one arguing about what they should do next. Only the gentle hum of the lab’s systems, muted by inactivity, and the two of them breathing. The quiet even seeped into Renee’s head, temporarily washing away the clamor that had been her constant companion for so long. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be still, inside and out.

Eventually there was a ripple in the stillness, a soft, low voice that she felt as much as heard. “Solution proves effective?”

 _Ask me tomorrow_ , she thought, _when the dust settles and the smoke clears._ When the guilt came home to roost and started battling her current comfort, this peace that might ironically strengthen her against the coming self-recrimination. In the wake of this unexpected calm, she could feel frayed nerves reknitting, crumbling mental walls rebuilding. Not enough to make her feel healed, but enough to see her through for a little while longer. It was exactly what she asked for. Exactly what she shouldn’t have asked for.

 _We should all fear getting what we wish for_. Renee exhaled. “For now.”

Hilbert made a soft and approving sound. “Good enough,” he murmured, echoing her own opinion on the matter. 

Renee assumed he’d take this as his moment to pull away from her, but he made no effort to move from his current position. She wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. “You don’t have to do this,” she told him, making ‘this’ encompass the leg crooked around hers for stability, the hand tracing absentminded circles between her shoulder blades, the slow breathing ruffling her hair. “I know what I asked for, but…” She trailed off, unable to find the words. She hadn’t asked for _affection_. He didn’t have to pretend he was enjoying her company, and the thought that he might assume she expected him to threw a sharp spotlight on just how wrong the entire situation was. And yet she wasn’t moving either.

A shrug, short and curtailed so as not to jostle her head too sharply. “Health benefits of human touch are well-documented,” he said with a gentle unconcern. “I am content to remain where I am.”

Not pretending, then. Appreciating her company, at least in the sense that she appreciated his. She was a warm body, a buffer against everything that was trying to destroy them, someone to trust just enough. She could appreciate that, find a sort of disquieting comfort in their mutual convenience. She tightened her arm around his neck, just a little bit. “Okay.”

A long and comfortable pause before Hilbert spoke again. “And if you are also content to remain where you are…” A sigh, biting the bullet. “You would still benefit from sleeping. And I do not mind.”

His meaning took a moment to reach her, and when it did she could see the hard, bright line that marked the limit of her trust. However confident she was that he wouldn’t to do anything to hurt her, and however enticing his offer was in the abstract, the thought of leaving herself in his hands while she slept made her stomach twitch. She tensed briefly, the moment startling his hands into stillness, and slowly, still a little reluctantly, pushed herself away from him. “There’s too much that still needs to be done today,” she said with a little shake of her head, which was true even if it wasn’t her primary motivation.

Hilbert breathed out a now-familiar sigh as he let her go, the impatience of a man seeing his medical advice being disregarded yet again. “Of course, Commander.”

The return to her title should have been a return to familiar ground, but it made Renee flinch. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want to wonder if there was some deeper layer to his disappointment. She scrambled for the workstation their clothes were wedged under, trying not to look like she was scrambling. Even if there was no possible graceful exit from this situation she’d at least make the effort to maintain her dignity. She dressed quickly, keeping her back to Hilbert and trying to focus on everything that still needed to be done today instead of what she’d just done.

Trying, and failing. The ghost of his touch lingered, burning all the brighter in her memory for the lack of anything to compare it to in over two years. A terrible idea, yes, but even as she felt the first little whispers of guilt deflecting off her newly-reinforced defenses she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not yet, at least.

Renee hesitated, her jumpsuit halfway zipped. She hardly ever wore it properly anymore, preferring to leave the sleeves tied haphazardly around her waist these days to keep her arms free and cool. But she pulled the top half up now, tugging it over a tank top that suddenly felt like it bared far too much skin and securing herself in a shell of ragged fabric and professionalism.

The twist to her upper body as she wrestled with one sleeve brought Hilbert into the corner of her vision, half-dressed and reaching for some small object floating just beyond his reach. He met her eye without any trace of the modesty she’d suddenly developed, seeming to be in no hurry to conceal what she’d already seen, and raised an eyebrow at her cautious expression. “There is problem?” He asked it so lightly, but Renee could hear him preparing to remind her that he knew this was going to end badly, he _warned_ her.

The desire to prove him wrong was enough motivation for her to square her shoulders against her sudden embarrassment. “Nope.” She punctuated the word with a final tug at her zipper, feeling more comfortable in herself when it locked in at the top of her collar, and gave him a defiant look. “Should there be?”

Hilbert’s face remained faintly skeptical, but he shrugged, setting the surprising amount of scar tissue across his shoulders and chest in motion. “Ideally, no. But if there is, would rather deal with it now, yes? That is entire point of this… endeavor.”

“There isn’t,” she said with some finality as she turned back away, trying to pull her hair into some semblance of order. Which was a lie, admittedly. For all the consequences of this decision that she’d anticipated and accepted, she’d apparently missed ‘everything is going to be really awkward between the two of you immediately afterwards.’ It wasn’t something she was about to admit; her pride had taken enough hits already today. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine,’” Hilbert repeated, injecting only the slightest hint of irony into the contentious word.

Renee rolled her eyes. She walked right into that one. “Okay, not _fine_ ,” she conceded. She paused, finding the peace she touched earlier. “But closer to it than it’s been.”

“Hmmph.” There was acceptance in the grunt, a point he was willing to grant her. “If you say so.” His hand slid into view above her head, holding the object of his chase. Renee took the errant hairpin and jabbed it into her scalp, hardly caring where it landed, avoiding the memory of the touch that shook it loose. “But I will admit,” Hilbert added with a contemplative note that prompted her to tilt back and look at him again, “there is a great deal of satisfaction to be found in simply finding a solution for a persistent problem.” He inclined his head towards her. There was a curl to his lip that she could almost describe as salacious, an expression she never would have imagined she’d see on him. “And some solutions are _particularly_ satisfying.”

The look, coupled with the growl that seeped into his voice, cut straight through to some of the thoughts Renee had been trying to push to the back of her mind. It was a small mercy that the flush that rose in her chest doesn’t get far enough to be visible. “I…” She coughed a little, cleared her throat, thankful that at least he was fully dressed now. “I can’t disagree with that.” The admission and her brief discomfiture were enough to elicit a smug look from him, and her snideness was an immediate defensive response. “I’m surprised to hear you say something like that. You’re so far above the rest of us I’d have assumed you’d left your base desires far behind.”

Of course Hilbert didn’t treat it like a dig. He made a small, ironic sound that she’d come to interpret as ‘you understand so little about me that I won’t bother to take offense.’ “Just because I have no interest in chasing physical pleasures does not mean I am incapable of enjoying them should the opportunity arise.” He leaned back from her, not quite focusing on her as he gave a shake of his head. “Sex is merely meaningless distraction. Waste of time and energy that would be better expended elsewhere. But at the moment…” A somber exhale. “We are in holding pattern. There is no order, there is no objective, there is no _work_. All we can do is struggle to survive and wait for situation to change. Under the circumstances, occasional meaningless distraction is welcome.”

In the months since Christmas, Renee had seen bits of Hilbert’s armor fall away on multiple occasions. She’d seen him bleeding, seen him chained, seen him wild-eyed with terror and gasping for air, and now she’d seen him literally naked and unguarded. But when he admitted, however obliquely, to being just as lost as she was, she felt like it was the first time she’d really seen him vulnerable. This was a man so defined and driven by his work that he made her look laid-back, and now he’d lost his purpose. He didn’t need comfort in the way that she did, but maybe he needed someone to understand him. And as she looked at his tired face, she did, in the same way that she trusted him: just for now, just in this regard, and just enough. Her sarcasm fell away; she could drop some of her armor if he was dropping his. “Can’t really disagree with that either, can I?”

“No point in disagreeing,” he told her, impervious and smarter-than-you once again. “We both know we have acted unwisely. But what is done is done, and wasting even more time and energy in regret and self-doubt will not improve matters.”

Renee wondered if he was aiming any part of the remark at himself or if it was all for her. She was inclined to suspect the latter, if only because she couldn’t imagine Hilbert actually admitting that anything he’d done was ‘unwise,’ no matter what other vulnerabilities he admitted to. “I get your point,” she said dryly. She’d gotten it the first hundred times he’d told her not to blame herself for everything. Whether or not it would stick was still up in the air.

His grunt seemed to echo that thought. “However,” he said, and there was sudden and surprising delicacy in his voice, “there is a difference between unwise and unproductive. If acting unwisely continues to be effective solution to the problem at hand… option will remain available to you.”

She pressed her mouth into a fine line if only to keep it from falling open. He was just full of surprises today, wasn’t he? “I…”

“I will not be the one to broach the subject,” he continued. He looked at her deliberately, not allowing his eyes to drift away in the same way she wasn’t allowing her surprise to show. Not quite embarrassed, she didn’t think, but clearly less comfortable with the subject than he’d like her to think. “I will not come to you. But if this helps… I will not be the one to say ‘never again.’”

 _Never again_. Renee wanted to say it herself so badly. To wrap what was left of her pride around herself and tell herself that this was a singular moment of weakness, an improbable confluence of events that led to some sort of temporary insanity, never to recur. She wasn’t going to let herself feel that way again, so desperate and broken that she was willing to do anything to hold the pieces together a little bit longer.

She _wanted_ to say it. She knew she couldn’t. It would be a promise she had no guarantee she could keep, not in this uncertain a situation and with no end to it in sight. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t need his comfort again. She couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t break so badly that his arms felt like a viable refuge. And she couldn’t bear the thought of breaking one more promise. “You’ve already done more than should have been asked of you,” she said, pushing aside the fear that things might get bad enough for her to ask it of him again.

Hilbert just nodded, seeming to recognize the non-answer for what it was. “As have we all, Commander. And there is still more to do, as you have said.” His fingers curled briefly around her shoulder as he pushed past her towards the door.

“So there is.” Renee let out a quietly relieved breath at this escape route from the conversation, from the room, from the strange intimacy they’d stumbled into. She took a deep breath. “Listen,” she said quietly. “Thank you. Whatever else happens later, right now… thank you.”

He turned to look at her again, and his soft growl sounded less disdainful than she would have expected. Closer to a sigh, and containing some of that weariness he’d let her glimpse earlier. “You know my motivations do not merit your gratitude.”

Unexpectedly, Renee felt a real smile finally tugging at her mouth, thin and weak but honest. _There_ was the return to familiar ground. There was the selfish son of a bitch she could barely stand and couldn’t stop herself from caring about. “You have it all the same.”

She recognized the look on his face because it was the same one she got every time they _almost_ agreed on something, the one that said _I will never understand you_. He shook his head, resigned once again to the madness of those who surround him. “If you insist on being grateful, do not waste that which you are thankful for. If you have found comfort, use it to _take care of yourself_. However much else the rest of the world may ask of you, that is all _I_ will ask. I do not think I am being unreasonable.”

It was that same earnestness that had taken her by surprise when he’d first expressed his concern for her. It was still surprising, still questionably motivated. And still comforting all the same. “I’ll do what I can.” The promise he drew out of her was like the smile, weak but honest.

Hilbert shook his head again as he exited the lab. “You will do more than you can,” he said, quietly enough that she wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear it. “This is the problem.” And with that he was gone, disappearing down the hallway before she could respond.

Renee stared at the place where he’d been for a while, growing accustomed to being alone with her thoughts once again. The dark and dangerous ones she’d managed to silence for a while were still circling, waiting for their opportunity to strike, but for now they were still too far away to touch her. Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from prodding at them like a sore tooth, dipping a hand into the still waters to test the roiling under the surface. She was still lost. Still helpless. Still afraid. But not, as she had been so vividly reminded, alone. It wasn’t much of a reassurance, perhaps, but it was _something_.

Under the circumstances, that was all she could ask for.


End file.
